


Fumbled

by hit_the_books



Series: SPN Kink Bingo [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Sam, M/M, Multi, No Sex, Sam Has To Think On His Feet, Sam Is Scarred For Life, Sam Is So Done, Sam is Not Amused, Sam is Seventeen Years Old, Sam is the Voice of Reason, Sex Curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things you do not do: throw boxes that come from haunted houses once owned by witches.</p>
<p>Or: that one time Sam has to leg it because of a sex curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fumbled

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [SPN Kink Bingo](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com/). Square filled: DeanJohnSam.

Reasons to get out of hunting were many and huge as far as Sam was concerned when he finally went off to Stanford for a shot at a normal life. His father and Dean always acted like the worst things that ever happened were just minor inconveniences, trivialities that were to be overcome and then forgotten… until the next time the same monster turned up and then you conveniently remembered how to gank them or pray that your journal had the facts. 

What his dad and brother never discussed were the cases where things were more complicated than just a simple stab-monster-in-this-spot-with-this-blade deal. Like that one time Dean had thrown a box at Sam when he hadn’t been expecting it, while they were packing up after a haunting, grabbing their things from their motel room. 

A shoe box sized, oak paneled box, covered in what were clearly protective symbols. A box that opened way too damn easily as Sam fumbled his catch. 

The contents had seemed really innocuous, but Sam knew he was fucked the moment his hand touched the silver necklace inside and he looked at Dean and John. The pair of them leveling him with minor looks of concern that quickly turned into something else. 

He’d seen them look at women like that before and Sam had instinctively known what those ragged breaths, blown pupils and parted lips meant. Thank god he had long, fast legs, even at seventeen. 

Running into the motel room, he slammed the door shut, pulled the chain, locked it and started piling up furniture in front of it. There were still a bunch of books and other items from the haunted house, a former witch’s house, that they hadn’t packed yet. Plus a few other odds and ends of their own. 

“C’mon, Sammy, open up!” Dean yelled by the barred front window. 

“Son, let us in,” John demanded. 

Sam ignored their shouts and started rifling through the witch’s old books, the necklace atop the bed beside him. He’d never dealt with a cursed object before, but it was obvious he had one on his hands. 

“So do not need this right now,” Sam lamented as he flicked through the fourth book. 

“Please, Sammy, just want to make you feel good!” Dean called. 

“You’ll feel so good, son,” John added. 

The barricade wouldn’t hold for much longer, not when the two men realized that Sam wouldn’t let them in. Sam abandoned the books for a moment and surveyed the items that had been left in the room. Not that John had a huge stock of magical odds and ends, spell ingredients and so forth, because no hunter would just casually engage in witchcraft—but Sam had read up on some protective spells a few years ago. Looking through what he did have, Sam found salt, ground cedar and dried angelica root. 

It would be a hack, substituting angelica root for the particular spell’s burdock root, but the words would work all the same. How Sam knew he could pull this off was a conversation he was never going to have with his father or brother. Just the same as he would never tell them how he just _knew_ things. 

“Sam, stand back, we’re coming in!” Dean shouted. 

Sam backed off, picked up a bronze bowl and threw a handful of salt, a pinch of cedar and a hastily crumbled angelica root into the bowl. Shaking the bowl gently to mix the spell’s components, he practiced the spell’s words in his head. 

Wood snapped and buckled, dragged and cracked. John and Dean walked into the motel room, standing upon the ruins of a dresser. 

“Sammy, we’ll make you feel so good. Just let me put your co—” 

Throwing the contents of the bowl at Dean and John, Sam intoned the spell’s incantation, right palm faced towards them. It was an old Germanic dialect, but Sam must have had the pronunciation down, because a glowing purple cage formed itself around Dean and John. Stopping them in their tracks. 

Putting the now empty bronze bowl down on the bed beside the silver necklace, Sam picked up the next book he hadn’t looked at. Its leather cover was cracked and stiff, but the pages still contained legible ink... and was written entirely in Latin. Rolling his eyes, Sam settled down to speed read it to see if it held any mention of the silver necklace. 

“Damnit, Sam, let us out. We only want to make you feel good. So, so good,” John moaned, hands holding tightly onto the bars in front of him. 

Sam didn’t even bother looking at John, keeping his eyes on the book as he scanned its pages. Reaching the book’s final chapter Sam spotted an illustration that depicted a necklace much like the one he had beside him. 

“The Chain of Venus…” Sam translated out loud, finding himself cringing as he continued, “curses those who touch it. The curse is a simple one, aiming at the subject the passions of those closest to the subject—regardless of existing bond. If contact is broken, no more will succumb.” 

“We’re not cursed,” Dean argued, “we just want to be with you, Sam.” 

Shaking his head, Sam read on in silence. Countering the curse was not straightforward, the solution half hidden in itself. But if Sam was reading it correctly, all he had to do was just wait the whole thing out. And not touch the necklace again. The cage would last until Sam uttered the words that would unlock it. Everything would be fine with time. 

Carefully, Sam picked up the necklace using one of Dean’s unpacked shirts and put the necklace back in its box. Ignoring his brother and father, Sam got out some tools and put a spare padlock onto the outside of the chain’s box. At least the box would no longer accidentally spring open. 

Checking the curse’s description one more time, Sam frowned and gave his brother and father an intense bitchface. “Are you two… uh… feeling… um… anything for each other?” 

John and Dean gazed at each other at that. The stare lasted longer than needed, so before any more chances for regret could be brought together, Sam scrambled together two more lots of cage components. 

He would have to work fast. Uttering the counter spell, Sam put himself on the other side of the room’s beds. John realized first that the original cage was gone and started moving towards Sam. 

Heart thudding in his chest, Sam dodged out of John’s way, threw one batch of the components and worked the spell again, giving John his own cage. As soons as the words finished on his lips, Sam was pounced on by Dean. Dodging his brother’s mouth, Sam put his training to use and wrestled Dean off of him. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” said Sam. 

“Why are you sorry, Sammy? You’ve done nothin—” 

It was the hardest Sam had ever punched Dean and his knuckles screamed at him for it. But as Dean fell to the motel room floor, Sam scrambled to pick up the next batch of cage spell ingredients and worked the spell a third time. Dean opened his eyes as glowing purple bars encased him. 

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Sam finally stood up. Finding some spare cash in his father’s duffel, Sam decided he would get himself his own room until the curse wore off. Pulling out some water bottles and snacks, Sam placed the items within reach of the cages. 

“I’ll see you both in the morning,” Sam said as he left through the motel room door. 

***

“We’re sorry, Sam,” John said as he pushed a stack of pancakes towards his son. 

Sam shrugged and started piling berries on top of the pancakes. To the other patrons inside the diner, they were just any other family having breakfast. 

“How’d you make those cages? That was, uh, some spell work,” Dean pushed a glass of OJ towards Sam. 

Sam shrugged again. While he knew John and Dean could not have helped what had happened, bar Dean throwing the damn box at him in the first place, Sam wasn’t above giving them the silent treatment. 

Starting on his pancakes, Sam thought about the college application pack one of his teachers had given him. A life more ordinary was within his reach.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I could have asked for a do over when I got my original card, but considering the Bingo allows you to write fic of any age rating, I decided to put something canon-esque-plotty together that would keep the ship in place.
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at [dreamsfromthebunker.](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/)


End file.
